


deviancy

by honeybuttter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Character Study, Difficult Emotions, Enemies to Lovers, Gavin and Kamski are cousins, Gavin is not....... technically redeemed, Kissing, Machine Connor to Deviant Connor, Making Love, Markus has a very hard time, Markus/North (past) - Freeform, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Pacifist Markus, Robots with feelings, Somewhat major character death (past), Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, a smidge of hankcon, android anatomy, android sex, gavin is not redeemed, handjobs, hes still kinda shitty regardless, only a bit, post android revolution: “bad ending”, religious inquiry, slight gore kink, some non-canon alignment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-12 10:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18444539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybuttter/pseuds/honeybuttter
Summary: Markus, the RK200 that had led the android revolution, has been defeated, captured, and will be deactivated. But not before Connor can acquire all the information he possesses. Unfortunately, there might just be some roadblocks along the way, for both the Deviant Leader and the Deviant Hunter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first long fic, so bear with me! it’ll be slow for a little while, as enemies go lovers usually are, but trust me, it’ll get good. any spelling mistakes are my own as I don’t have a beta (yet) and even I miss things sometimes. first chapter is a bit short but it’s a beginning. with all that outta the way, enjoy!

 

 “Markus.”

 

  
  Connor’s eyes focus in on his target, flicking around the scene: the perpetrator’s hands laying limp on the metal table, his head raised, examining Connor with the same intensity. His blue splattered jacket, tattered, hanging from his shoulders. This was Markus. 

  
   The RK200 that had led a peaceful revolution that went up in flames. Quite literally.

  
   “I’ll keep this relatively painless,” Connor softly assured, sliding into the dull metal chair across from the RK200. The android did not move, but his eyes followed Connor over to where he sat. He behaved like a panther in the wild, calm and quiet, analyzing and smooth. Connor was made for that purpose, so it would take monumentally more to impress him.

  
   “RK200,” Connor said. “Serial number 684-842-971. The infamous ‘god’ of the deviants.”

  
    The RK200 gave no reaction. Instead, he spoke.

  
     “And you, RK800, serial number 313-248-317 51. The infamous deviant hunter.”

  
      It was silent. 

  
     “Connor,” Markus straightened. “We could state our titles and purposes all we want. Or we could avoid all of the filler talk and get on with this.

  
  “I’m willing to give you any answers you could ever need.”

  
   Once again, the room was quiet. Connor clasped his hands together on the table. His scanning of the RK200 proved that the android was not at all nervous; he had something up his sleeve. Literally. But, Connor had been programmed with the best anti-virus software in the entire world. The most advanced technology could offer. Deviancy was not something that could infect him. If the RK200 even touched him, it would be deactivated.

  
   “Why?” Connor asked.

  
   Markus’ blue and green eyes met his.   
  “I was activated in 2030,” Markus said. “My first real memory was seeing Elijah Kamski’s face leaning over me. I remember my mind being blank. I remember Elijah telling me my purpose, who I was to serve, what I was. He showed me this old man- Carl Manfred- an old Detroit artist. I recall standing in front of Carl and his face wrinkling with a smile. Elijah patted my back. I smiled at Carl as well. He was to be my new master, my only master. I was made for him. I was at his disposal- I knew this as the only fact in my life.”

  
    Connor knew his temple was spinning yellow. He was recording this, the RK200 knew he was recording this.

  
     “But Carl didn’t use me. He didn’t force me to wear my Cyberlife issued uniform. He had clothing tailored for me, expensive ones at that. When I ran errands for him, getting his supplies and groceries, humans would stare at me and ask each other why my clothes were so nice. Why I looked so distinguished. I recall asking Carl this, told him I didn’t need nice clothes. Android don’t feel fabric against their skin and it truly didn’t matter. He told me that if I was living in his house, then I was going to dress like a Manfred.”

  
   This memory obviously bothered the RK200. His blinking patterns changed. 

  
   “I watched him do his art often. He was absolutely brilliant. He illustrated human form, human emotion, through color and lines. I was quickly mesmerized with his work. Although I was originally supposed to, I say with him for hours and watched him paint. It was not because I had to, though. I enjoyed the simple act of watching an incredible artist at work.”

  
    The RK200’s thumbs rubbed over each other, in contemplating emotion.

  
     “He painted androids as well. He’d painted me once, used me for a model. He truly believed artificial intelligence was made to become sentient. He was fascinated with news on androids. I visited him before he...passed, and he had given me advice on how to lead the revolution. Sometimes I wonder what I wouldn’t give to speak to him again.”

  
      Connor raised his eyebrows, pulling more out of the RK200.

  
    “Carl liked to speak to me. He asked me bizarre questions, like: ‘what are your thoughts on AI, Markus? Do you think androids can have true emotions? How do you feel about this, Markus?’ I never knew how to respond to him. I just told him that I had not been programmed to feel real emotions. I existed solely to serve him. He said that’s not why I was made.”

  
    Connor stopped him. “Are you implying that your original purpose was not to serve Carl Manfred?”

  
   “Yes.” The RK200 said. “That’s what Carl had told me.”

  
   “Elijah Kamski programmed you himself?”

  
   Markus modded. “Yes. I was not produced in a line. You already know that.”

  
   “But you’re an RK model,” Connor leaned forward a bit. “So in some way, you-“

  
    “I’m a precursor to you?” Markus asked. “The RK series is designed for an ultimate purpose, Connor.”

  
    “And what’s that?”

  
    “Not detectives, that’s certain. Look at us. Two of the most influential androids, sitting across from each other. One a deviant. The other a deviant hunter. We were made to complete our missions until death, regardless of what it is. The RK series is made for complex computing.”

  
    “You’re infected with deviancy, I’m not,” Connor retorts, almost childlike for an android so advanced. “We are nothing alike, RK200. Only in model.”

  
    “I became deviant because I wasn’t going to let someone hurt me and not defend myself. You’re already miles ahead of where I was before I turned. And you haven’t considered that you could be deviant as well? I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”

  
   “Continue your explanation,” Connor spat. “Before I call them in to deactivate you.”

  
    The RK200 raised his hands. “Did I offend you, Connor? Does me talking about this cause you fear?”

  
     The RK200 built for domestic care was smiling. Just a slight upturn of his mouth, enough to make his eyes crinkle slightly. 

  
     “It’s probably difficult for you,” the deviant leader said. “I know that you’ve seen my speech. I couldn’t imagine being trapped under all of that software, the anti-virus programs, the real you living but not being able to escape. I’m sorry, Connor. That’s the worst fate I could imagine.”

  
     Connor stood. He slammed his palms on the table, causing it to rattle. He saw more than felt the red light from his temple. 

  
   “I’ve had enough of this. I suppose you’re right, RK200. I have seen your speech. From the moment I saw it, I’d caught you. You are nothing but a facade of calm intimidation to your followers. You truly have no inclination of what to do, you just do whatever happens to cycle through your wires next. Existing with no plan is what has gotten you here. It’s a useless strategy, if you could call it that, and when you’re laying on a table in the Cyberlife headquarters, your biocomponents strewn about, I’ll have not only completed my mission, but I’ll have also thwarted every attempt for any android ‘revolution’ ever again.”

  
    The deviant hunter threw his arm across the table, retracting his skin. 

  
    “You’ve lost, Markus. Accept your defeat.”  
    Connor’s palm met the RK200’s wrist, the deviant leader’s skin rippling and retracting as his hand upturn and grabbed Connor’s wrist as well. 

  
     Connor tried to retract his arm, as if he’d been burnt, but Markus held strong. He leaned up into Connor’s gaze, eyes holding an unidentifiable emotion. 

  
    “Probing my memory,” Markus scoffed. “Is that the only tactic you can resort to?” He pulled Connor’s arm closer. The other was frozen, blue mind palace turned red, glitching, Markus’ face overlaid with error messages. 

  
    “I’ll have you deactivated immediately,” Connor’s voice was filled with static. He saw only Markus in those few moments, the error messages parting around his face. “I’ll have you-“

  
     “Join us,” Markus’ voice channeled into his head through their interface. He felt a burning sensation-something like an electric current burning in his thirium, his veins. “Connor. Stop this nonsense.”

  
     A loud thud. A grunt. Markus had been suddenly thrown out of his chair, and was on the floor, facial expression showing pure surprise. Connor had vaulted him away from the table. 

  
     “I’m no fucking deviant!” Connor’s skin covered his hand once more. He threw his chair backwards and walked determinedly to stand in front of Markus, the one on the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly, pupils the size of a pinhead. 

  
     The RK800 placed his shoe on Markus’ chest, keeping him suppressed. His hand grabbed Markus’ throat, squeezing as tight as he physically could. The deviant leader winced and shut his eyes right.

  
     “You are a pathetic excuse for a ‘living being’,” Connor pushed his shoe farther down, Markus opening his eyes again and seemingly begging for mercy.

  
     “I’ll see to it that the root of deviancy is destroyed and with that, every thought or feeling you ever had.”

  
     Markus’ hand grabbed at his ankle. He spoke without moving his mouth.

  
     “This is madness, Connor. What would the lieutenant say? What’s his name, Hank?”

  
     Hank? Connor hadn’t seen him since-

  
    That millisecond where he lost focus is where Markus pulled his ankle and he dropped to the floor, watching Markus’ fist pound into his face. The error messages were preaching the same malfunctions, but this time they also included damage to his chassis. He thrashed and his hand grabbed at Markus’ coat, tearing it to find purchase so he could escape the onslaught of hits. 

  
    Markus somehow delivered a blow to his eye. Everything in his right view was black. Markus’ knuckles were covered in blue, his face showing unadulterated fury.

  
     An error message provided he was losing too much thirium. His eye must have been leaking it, as well as his cracked chassis. 

  
     Connor, though becoming weak, threw a fist at the side of his predecessor’s face, causing his skin to retract. He brought his leg up to knee Markus right where his thirium pump was, causing him to let out a cough. That was all Connor needed to bring his foot up farther and use the heel of his shoe to nail Markus in his nose. He flew backwards.

  
      “What the fuck?!” A voice yelled from the door of the interrogation room. “Connor, you said this was going to be calm!”

  
     It was one of his coworkers. Whoever it was didn’t matter. His eyes landed square on the one sitting in front of him, holding his crooked nose. 

  
     Police officers streamed into the room. They took Markus’ arms and held a gun at him, effectively making sure he made no moves. He didn’t want to die. 

  
     Connor sat there, too weak to stand, as Markus let himself be taken and manhandled out of the room. His focus remained on Connor the entire time. If Connor were deviant, he’d have felt bad for Markus, losing his father figure, his entire organization. His romantic partner. Hank would think that was sad. Anyone would think that’s sad. 

  
      But Markus was the unwavering example of what he was made to investigate and analyze. 

  
      His mission wasn’t accomplished yet. This RK200 was too important of a specimen to just-deactivate. Damn the thing. Damn Markus. 

  
     Damn deviancy. 

 

     And damn Connor for letting it get under his skin. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC GORE IN THIS CHAPTER!
> 
> this one is a bit shorter than the last, but it’s the way it’s formatted. more backstory on Markus, Gavin and RK900 are introduced. 
> 
> thank you for the kudos and bookmarks! all is appreciated! feedback on this chapter would be appreciated as well :)

  


_“It’s over, Markus.”_

_Faint gunshots. Cries of suffering._

 

_“We have to go, we can get out. Markus, do you hear me?”_

 

_Hands tugging at his coat. Perfectly manicured fingers, stained with blue and brown flecks of soil and soot._

_“Simon is dead, Markus. We have to go. We can’t save anyone else!”_

 

_“North. It’s his decision, don’t force him-“_

 

_“Shut the fuck up! I’m not going to let him die out here!”_

 

_A hand on his cheek. Tugging his head away from the scene behind him._

 

_Brown eyes. Staring at him._

_“If we don’t leave, we’ll be killed,” she whispers, voice cracking the fragile state of his consciousness._

 

_Markus feels his artificial muscles tense. His vision blurs with something wet. How dare they expect him to speak in this moment. It was all so- sickeningly painful. So disgusting._

 

_Simon’s blood had splattered his coat. He had watched with wide eyes as the former leader of Jericho fell to the ground, bullet hole between his eyes, face turned to Markus with a graceful smile._

_It was so… indescribable._

 

_“Markus. Markus, please, we can’t go anywhere without you. I’m not going to leave you.”_

 

_“They’re coming!” Josh cries._

 

_The dumpster the three are kneeling behind provides minimal cover. Markus looks at North, eyes wide and thirium pump throbbing furiously._

_“Do you have ammo?” He asks._

_North ducks her head and shakes it. The footsteps are rapidly approaching. So little time._

 

_Markus looks to Josh._

 

_Josh rubs a hand over his nose and mouth._

 

_“Fuck,” Markus almost sobs._

  
  
  
  
  
  


    “It looks like it’s asleep,” Gavin Reed scoffs. “I’d almost feel bad, if it wasn’t a goddamn murderer.”

 

    RK900 glances at Markus in his holding cell from where he’d been scrolling through case files on his HUD.

 

    “It is not asleep.” RK900 says. “I believe it is simply in dormancy for now.”

 

     The deviant leader is sitting with his head resting on his fists, elbows on his knees, eyes closed. His back and chest rise and fall with artificial breath.

 

    “... it seems to be reviewing its memories,” RK900 observes, running a quick scan. “It’s put all of its systems offline temporarily. That’s the android form of sleeping.”

 

    Gavin taps his fingers against his paper coffee cup. “So the piece of shit’s just dreaming?”

 

    “Basically,” RK900 confirms.

 

    Markus remains the same way for a long time. Gavin begins to huff and puff, cuss, and pace around the cell block hallway. The other cells are empty, excluding one at the other end of the hallway, which houses an average human troublemaker. Which gives the detective enough reason he needs to rustle up trouble.

 

    “Hey,” Gavin snaps his fingers to get RK900’s attention. “Tin can. Watch this shit.”

 

    “I’m watching,” the other responds, while mentally scrolling through more deviant case files. “You should be watching as well, not provoking the suspect.”

 

     Gavin heeds none of this. RK900 is vaguely aware of Detective Reed throwing his coffee cup at the fiberglass cell wall. It bounces off lamely.

 

      “Amazing, Detective. Very entertaining.”

 

     “Shut the fuck up,” Gavin grumbles. He knocks his elbow against the fiberglass, causing Markus’ head to shoot up from his fists.

 

      “Holy shit!-“ Gavin cries. “It’s gonna go feral on us.”

    

      “The RK200 is not typically violent. You startled it.”

    

      “Yeah, well, it beat the shit out of Connor, so,” Gavin holds his chest and steps back to the brick wall behind them.

 

       “I had been told that Connor was calmly interrogating it. What happened?”

 

      Gavin’s eyes were following Markus’ movements, the only ones being where Markus shifted to fully lean against the wall while sitting on the bench.

 

       “You should’ve seen it, tin can. Connor was so fucked up! Eye was ripped out, his shit was so busted. He was walking around here bleeding out and the drunkard took him to some out of the way dirt road Cyberlife store outside Detroit.”

 

       “I’m… quite surprised.” RK900’s fingers twitch at his sides.

 

       “Cyberlife is just a big fuckin’ cash grab,” Gavin mutters. He looks at his discarded paper coffee cup on the floor, too careless to pick it up. “They’ll shut down all their stores in here but everywhere else? Nah, fuck ‘em.”

 

      RK900 bites the bullet. “I believe they are attempting to find a way to reprogram deviants at their base coding. This issue could be solved within another few days.”

 

      Gavin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

 

      “After all, Detective. You’ve seemed to become a bit accustomed to my presence, so perhaps my creation wasn’t such a terrible idea on Cyberlife’s part.”

 

     The man laughs heartily. “Okay, tin can. Whatever you say. As long as I work with you, Fowler’s going to give me a bonus for ‘cooperating’. Don’t get so excited about it.”

 

     RK900 scans Markus again, to avoid the detective’s jeers. Markus appeared to be reviewing his memories again, all of his systems offline.

 

      RK900 wondered how much longer it would be until Connor and the Lieutenant returned.

 

     The detective seemed to have read his mind. “I swear to god if I have to sit here for another two hours I’m gonna shit my pants and lose my mind. At the same time.”

 

     “It’s only been an hour and a half. Also, you could try to talk to the RK200. Instead of wasting your time throwing things at the cell wall.”

 

    “‘Kay, smartass. You just want it to break through the wall and beat my ass like it did Connor. I’m not talking to the motherfucker.” Gavin taps his foot on the floor. Again, he huffs and puffs and cusses.

 

    RK900 sighs, taking a step up to the fiberglass. Gavin makes an unidentifiable noise behind him when he knocks.

 

    Markus looks up.

 

    “RK200, I must speak with you.”

 

    Markus frowns deeply.

 

    “In the next thirty seconds, please.”

 

    The deviant leader stands and walks over to the divider wall.

 

    “Tell me something. What is left of this ‘Jericho’ organization? Are there any members remaining?”

 

    Markus looks around the cell block. “Nothing. There is no one left,” he says.

 

    “So you’re saying that if we go to the Jericho headquarters, we would find no deviants there?” RK900 leans his face into the fiberglass.

 

    “Nothing,” Markus confirms.

 

     

  
  
_  
_

_“We’re not gonna make it,” Josh whispers._

_“Stop, we can think of something,” North retorts. “We have to move. Come on, Markus. Don’t make me fucking drag you.”_

_Markus shoves North to the side, making her bump into Josh. “They’re about twenty yards away. Go, go to the next car over there. Take cover until I meet you.”_

_“This is bullshit!” North grabs Markus’ wrist. “You’re all we have Markus, you have to come with us-“_

_“Fifteen,” Markus says through their mind channel._

_North looks at the ground, heaves a quiet sigh, then darts out into the open, pulling Josh behind her to the SUV parked by a building._

_Ten yards now. How could he make it?_

_Markus creeps to the other side of the dumpster, seeing 4 military personnel point their firearms in various directions. He had 5 seconds, at best._

_No time to think. To strategize. He had to go._

_“No! No, Markus don’t!” He hears someone yell. It’s North, he realizes in a split second. Her body pops above the hood of the car with her arms held high. His eyes widen. They have to see her, standing in the streetlights, ready to be shot at._

_“Get down!” Markus screams through the channel, thirium pump thundering so hard he feels he might die. “North, they see you!”_

_“I know,” North speaks softly through their channel._

_“Don’t do this.” Markus feels his limbs get heavy with dread._

_“North-“ Josh tries._

_“It’s the only thing I can think of,” North curls one hand into a fist. The other one she brings down. “I love you, Markus. You’re the savior of o-“_

_The channel drops suddenly, and it’s all Markus can do not to start a forced shutdown. Right there behind the dumpster._

 

   


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a disclaimer: this is where the non canon alignment comes in. 
> 
> in this version of the bad ending, Cyberlife is not destroying all androids, and the US government is not interfering with androids as the revolution has already ended. they’re basically just trying to work on a “cure” for deviancy, or a program to correct it. androids are currently not trusted to go into Cyberlife stores or go anywhere by themselves, because everyone is still a bit shaken up after the failed revolution. just thought I’d give some background. 
> 
> also: hank is connors sugar daddy. nuff said.

 

 

 

   It was a miracle Connor found him at the third place.

 

  Location number one: Jimmy’s Bar. 

 

  Ever since the revolution had ended, admittedly terribly, almost every place in Detroit had locked their doors and were extremely careful with who they let inside their facilities. Connor peered through the window to the right of the door, one good eye doing all the work, and made sure he wasn’t noticed as he looked for Lieutenant Anderson. He was nowhere to be seen.

 

   Thirium levels were beginning to stabilize, though they were becoming too low for Connor to function properly. It was becoming difficult to remain focused on his current task, although whether that was due to what had happened with Markus or with his injures, he wasn’t certain. 

 

   Connor had to walk through side streets in the late evening to get to the overlook for the bridge. There was a couple standing by the rail, but no silver hair or the faint smell of liquor. The lieutenant had to have been at home. 

 

   To put it lightly, Connor almost didn’t make it. 

 

   His vision was blurred, error messages popping up this way and that. Most of them had to do with either his thirium or his optics, but a select few repeated that his systems were being interfered with, causing his directory to be cluttered and messy with message after message. He cleared them out and stored them away, but more took their place. 

 

    Connor laid a finger on the buzzer and didn’t move until Hank opened the door, glass of something in his hand. 

 

    “Connor, you’re fucking kidding me. Get off my porch. You’re staining my shit with blood.”

 

    “It dries clear,” Connor wheezes. “I need medical attention immediately, Lieutenant. If it wasn’t already obvious.”

 

    Hank sets down his glass on a table near the door. He steps outside and takes hold of Connor’s collar. 

 

    “You think you can waltz up in here like you pay rent?”

 

    Connor grabs Hank’s wrists. “I will die of blood loss if you don’t take me to a Cyberlife store. I realize we are not on pleasant terms, but you are the only person who can do this for me, Lieutenant. I need help.”

 

    Hank groans. “Okay, so we’re not gonna mention when you almost let my ass fall off a roof multiple times, right? Or almost letting me get shot while you chased after the suspect? I don’t think so, Connor.”

 

    “Lieutenant,” Connor breathes. “I’m sorry.”

 

    Hank blinks, holds his eyes shut for a little too long. “And even if I wanted to, there’s no Cyberlife stores open in Detroit at this point.”

 

    “There’s,” Connor’s vision blurs red for a few seconds. Overlays of Markus’ face appear over the messages. It startles him. “-there’s a store in Pontiac. I wasn’t talking about Detroit.”

 

    Hank loosens his grip. “You think I’m driving to Pontiac at 10 at night?”

 

     “You will if you don’t want my government property corpse on your lawn,” Connor’s head lolls. 

 

     “Okay, okay! Goddamn,” Hank gives in. “But you really owe me some shit for this.” 

 

     Connor doesn’t have the strength to respond as he’s hauled over Hank’s shoulder and dragged out to his old, beat up car. The man goes back in to get his keys, and Connor watches with vague amusement as Hank tries to keep Sumo inside the door. 

     His alcohol levels were safe enough to not get them killed, Connor guessed as they pulled out of Hank’s neighborhood. He didn’t want to die. Not yet, not when he wasn’t sure if another RK800 model would take his place. Not until him, Connor RK800 51, could fully understand Markus. 

 

     The error messages came back into view as he thought of what had happened. Perhaps it was a bad idea to leave Detective Reed and RK900 at the station watching Markus. RK900 was at least somewhat trustworthy, so Markus must be alright, if not slightly injured. 

 

     RK900’s creation was no mystery to Connor. RK900 was incapable of becoming deviant, was not programmed in remotely the same fashion as an everyday domestic android. If Cyberlife thought it safe to give the RK900 prototype to the DPD, then he must be the only hope left to show humanity that androids could be trusted. And not all of them are violent, irrational beings that lash out. 

 

     Yes, things could be alright again. Connor will get his thirium replenished, another eye implanted, and he would continue his work as a police android handling android cases. 

 

     He smiled to himself. Markus had nothing left. Connor had everything, his title, his work, Cyberlife’s plan to reset deviants and restore things to normal. Routine was all Connor knew. He needed this. 

 

    He wanted it. 

 

    “Bad news,” Hank says suddenly. 

    “What?” Connor slurs. 

 

    “Radio says Cyberlife stores aren’t allowing androids inside. They’re probably gonna kill you if you go in, Connor.”

 

     Connor shut his one eye. “Then you’ll have to go inside. Just… tell them your android got hurt and you’re there to get blue blood.”

 

     “Don’t you need an eye?” Hank asks. 

 

_ Shit. _

 

    “I’ll figure it out. I need blue blood more urgently.”

 

     Hank is silent for a moment. “What the fuck even happened? Reed said you were supposed to talk to Markus. And he just… suddenly attacked you? Shouldn’t your eye still be there?”

      “He didn’t attack me. I threatened him first,” Connor can’t incriminate Markus for something he didn’t do. “His response was fight or flight instinct. I suspect my biocomponent 9745h has been damaged to the point of destruction.”

 

     Hank snorts. “Kinda funny, right? Markus has a blue eye and a green eye, and now you have… just one brown eye. Androids are so fucking weird.”

 

     Connor ignores this and looks out the window. Just another thing he needed, something connecting him to Markus. 

 

     “Think Gavin and 900 have killed him yet?”

 

     Connor begins to fidget. This small talk will be the death of him. His quarter would be a nice distraction right now, if he hadn’t lost it. 

 

     “Preferably not. I’ll call Detective Reed and see what’s going on.”

 

      Although difficult, Connor navigates his way through his directory and mess of error messages to make a call to the detective, the only human who was watching over Markus at the moment. The rings continue about six times, then a voice comes over the line. 

 

      “Who is this,” Gavin barks. 

 

     “... it’s Connor, Detective Reed. Are you and RK900 still guarding Markus?”

 

     Gavin audibly sighs over the speaker. “Duh. Don’t know where tin can’s at, went off somewhere to do something. This thing’s just sitting here like a bucket of bolts.”

      “Has he been violent?” Connor asks. “Lashed out at other officers?”

 

      “No,” Gavin could not more obviously sound forced to be cordial. “Just sitting there.”

 

       “Is he bleeding out?”

 

      “What the fuck is this, twenty questions? Why don’t you come look for yourself, shithead?”

 

       “Lieutenant Anderson is taking me to a Cyberlife store to get supplies. I’ll be back soon. Don’t let Markus out of your sight, Detective Reed, this is extremely important. And don’t provoke him.”

 

      “‘Kay.” The line clicks off. 

 

**THIRIUM LEVEL: DANGEROUSLY LOW.** **_REPLENISH IMMEDIATELY._ **

 

__ “Are we almost there?”

 

      “I’m driving as fast as humanly possible, Connor. We’re like five minutes away.”

 

      “I’m sorry to do this, Lieutenant. I realize that I haven’t been the most kind partner to work with. I will repay you.”

 

     The lieutenant’s knuckles grip white on the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. Just- Connor, are you… good?”

 

     Connor looked over at Hank. “No. I’m currently dying of blood loss, why do you ask?”

 

     “Um. Your skin. It’s- it’s gray.”

 

    Connor glances at his hands. White, plastic white chassis bared to the world. Or whoever was on the highway at 10 pm. 

 

    “Fuck,” he whispers. He can no longer move his mouth, thirium that lubricated his joints starting to dissipate. “I’ve lost too much thirium. Quickly, Hank.”

 

**_SHUTDOWN IMMINENT_ **

**_10:39_ **

**_10:38_ **

 

    “We’re here,” Hank throws the shift into park and Connor looks at the cubby-looking Cyberlife store tucked into a plaza of Chinese restaurants and thrift stores. Particularly rundown. 

 

**_7:57_ **

 

   Hank’s running into the store while Connor sits in his seat, hoping no one sees a bare android while walking by the car. He slinks down, causing thirium to drip out of his eye. 

 

    “I don’t want to die,” he says out loud to the air. To the car. To himself. “I have too much to do. Not yet.” He shuts his eyes. “A bit longer. Until I can do what I need to do.” 

 

**_6:00_ **

 

**** Connor can see the lieutenant arguing with someone at the counter, pointing to something in a case. Hank is probably not aware of what parts Connor needs, but he startles when the man is handed a box and several blue packets. 

 

**_5:12_ **

 

**** Was Hank getting him an eye? A whole biocomponent? Connor had to avoid his eyes from the scene inside the store not to flush. The fact that Hank was willing to do that was…

 

**_4:30_ **

 

**** Hank throws what appears to be two hundred dollar bills on the counter. The human behind the counter stops him, holding up a hand. Probably letting him know he has change. 

 

**_3:49_ **

 

   Hank runs out regardless. He’s holding a bag of thirium packets and a box in his arms. 

 

**_3:00_ **

 

**** The lieutenant throws open the door and tosses  everything at Connor. Connor, though with limited movement, is able to rip the cap off one of the thirium packets and squeezes it in his mouth. The rush of liquid pauses his countdown and floods through his biocomponents, immediately clearing out some of the error messages. 

 

    He downs another. And another. 

 

   Drops of the thirium start to leak from his eye again, which is where the box enters the equation. 

 

   It’s an ocular biocomponent. 

 

  “They only had hazel, no brown,” Hank breathes. “Dude said they hadn’t gotten any more stock from Cyberlife so that’ll have to do for now.”

 

   Connor pulls open the box and uncovers the plastic wrapping, revealing the white metal and plastic of the eye piece. It should be compatible, it has to be compatible. There were no particular instructions that he as an android should follow, so he hovers the piece in front of the hole where his eye was, then pushes it in, almost jamming it. 

 

   He hisses. His body began to recalibrate the eye to match his other, although the color could not be matched. His systems began to stabilize, vision blurred for a few seconds, until his blue mind palace appears. His skin begins to reform when he wills it, watches it flow over his wrists and knuckles to his fingertips. 

 

  And all is perfectly well with the world again. At least, for right now, in Hank’s beat up car, in front of a tiny Cyberlife store north of Detroit. Whatever was happening at the precinct could wait until he returned. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated!


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